It was by no means a work of extraordinary merit.

The artist was only twenty-four years of age, and had been compelled to interrupt his studies to toil for his daily bread, but it was full of originality and genius.

Sabine gazed at it for a few moments in silence, and then murmured the words,-- "It is lovely!" But Andre was too discouraged to notice her praise.
"It is like," remarked he, "but a photograph also has that merit.

I have only got your features, but not your expression; it is an utter failure.
Shall I try again ?" Sabine stopped him with a gesture of denial.
"You shall not try again," said she decidedly.
"And why not ?" asked he in astonishment.
"Because this visit will be my last, Andre." "The last ?" stammered the painter.

"In what way have I so offended you, that you should inflict so terrible a punishment on me ?" "I do not wish to punish you.